Firedancer
by La Morraine
Summary: After the war everything has changed and Lucius feels the strain of loss deeply. But he should have known … fire is said to leave fertile ground after burning everything it touches ... Veela!Lucius x Harry


Firedancer

Title: Firedancer

Author: Desdemona Sakura

Mail: 

Genre: Romance, post war

Warnings: none

Summary: After the war everything has changed. Lucius feels the strain of loss deeply, but suddenly, after being dragged into a Muggle circus by Snape and falling hard for a talented artist, a firedancer, everything changes again and the bitterness isn't so hard to bear. In fact, more things are setting themselves to right than even Lucius could have wished for. He should have known … fire is said to leave fertile ground after burning everything it touches.

Feedback: Oh, it would certainly be nice to know what you think about this somewhat experimental story.

Firedancer

by Desdemona Sakura

+    +

Lucius Malfoy was a man not easily satisfied. Being born part Veela he had suffered most of his years as an adult not only shackled to a complete madman who had demanded _despiceable_ things from him, but also to an insipid wife that had almost succeeded driving him mad with ceaseless demands for money and useless trinkets to show off to her equally insipid friends. Not to mention his godforsaken, poor son who had been hidden away in an insane asylum in France, having been driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse by none other than his own Aunt Bellatrix.

Marked from this exposure to madness - both his and his son's - and boredom he had taken to collecting special moments like one would collect buttons, or perhaps stamps. Lucius was always looking for a moment or a situation where he could feel life as he hadn't felt it since he had been a child. Years he had spent, trying to find these precious seconds that showed and assured him that yes, he was still alive, and yes, magic still existed.

The Veela in him, a creature striving to find beauty wherever it went, was howling with rage for being kept underfoot for so long in the Dark Lord's services. Yes, Lucius had often wallowed in misery. Years ago, when he had joined Voldemort, his Veela side had been dazzled and seduced by the power of the wizard, but that was all Voldemort had possessed. Power, and that wicked wish for even more power.

Now Voldemort was dead, but Lucius still was not happy. Harry Potter, their saviour, had vanquished the Dark Lord four years ago, burning him like a flame would burn a moth that came too close. Now Lucius still had no real place in a society that he vaguely despised – and which despised him in return -, but at least he was allowed to live here. With Voldemort he hadn't been so sure sometimes.

Lucius thought about Harry Potter without bitterness or resentment. After all, the boy had saved them all from a world filled with pain and darkness, even him. How unfortunate that Potter hadn't been able to save him from his _lovely_ wife Narcissa and the numbing boredom as well. But he supposed it wasn't Potter's problem if he died each day a bit more, listening to Narcissa's mind-numbingly gormless blathering.

So he was just as unsatisfied with the letter that was lying innocently on his desk, shining in the morning sun that was filtering through the open windows of his study. It was from Severus, which managed to raise his spirits at least a little. The contents, however, did not.

"Coming to a circus," Lucius muttered crossly, taking his teacup and sipping the hot liquid slowly. "What is he _thinking_?"

He set the cup aside and considered Severus' letter. It was an invitation to go out together, to spend some time in each others' company. Lucius would have agreed immediately if it hadn't been for the proposal of visiting a Muggle circus. A _Muggle_ circus, of all things! As if a circus wouldn't be unexciting in itself for a wizard, having seen so much real magic already, but going to a Muggle one as well? There was nothing Lucius hadn't seen already, of that he was sure.

He was just about to write a fitting reply to his oldest friend when his hand suddenly stilled, pen hovering elegantly over the pristine parchment. Inwardly, he was debating with himself. On the one hand he really despised Muggles for various reasons, but on the other hand he _really_ needed to get out of this house. Meetings with Severus were rare as it was, and perhaps it wasn't wise to affront his friend like this.

Sighing in defeat, Lucius made up his mind and wrote an affirmative reply. It was crazy to put himself in between bumbling Muggles, but perhaps, just perhaps, he would see something wonderful on his time out. Perhaps he would find another special moment for his small collection.

As wizards and Muggles knew alike, hope is always the last to die.

Lucius met Severus in front of the entrance gates to the circus. Muggles were milling around him; they made his skin crawl but he hid his dislike well. At least they were dressed properly, even the children. He shook his head. Why some parents took their offspring with them to a late show was beyond his understanding since children were prone to sudden attacks of fatigue and therefore likely to start annoying the adults with whining and crying.

"Good evening, Lucius," said Snape with his rich voice. He looked the blond up and down teasingly. "You look passable."

It was a running gag between them. Over time after Voldemort's defeat Severus had dragged Lucius a few times into the Muggle world, mostly for sightseeing and short trips to magical places that, unfortunately, were also holiday places for Muggles. Lucius had learned to dress accordingly, although he seemingly couldn't let his guard down by wearing anything less than suit and tie or at least very expensive shirts and jackets.

"The same can be said about you," replied Lucius with a smirk. "I hope you know what a huge sacrifice it is for me to come here." He stared distastefully at some children that were running past them.

"You won't regret it," promised Snape. He took Lucius' arm and they walked to an entrance that was obviously for VIP. "They have an attraction that I wanted to show you." He handed their cards to a young man who ripped the entrance slips off.

A young woman handed them discreet VIP pins for the lapels of their suits and they pinned them on. "Please feel free to get drinks from the bar. We hope that the buffet will be to your satisfaction, sirs," she said with a trained smile. Her eyes rested a bit too long on Lucius' face but thankfully she made no attempt at flirting.

At the bar both Lucius and Severus got a glass of wine. Severus enjoyed a red Chianti, while Lucius nursed white wine without asking what it was. It tasted well enough, he supposed, at least for Muggles who weren't used to better wine. He watched Severus as he went and raided the buffet. His friend was one of the few people who could eat what they wanted and never turned fat. And Severus loved to eat well, being just as spoiled as Lucius himself in that regard. It was no wonder that they spent a lot of their time together in exclusive restaurants.

While Severus was enjoying himself, Lucius wandered over to the stand where souveniers were sold. He looked at masks and trinkets, coffee mugs with the circus emblem on it, T-shirts and other things that didn't even remotely rouse his interest. He then wandered over to a large book-like contraption made of plastic in which posters were filed. He carefully touched the thing and turned one of the huge pages. In a slightly better mood he looked at posters of people in colourful costumes dancing, flying through the air in a daring figure or contorting themselves excessively.

It really was quite soothing to see the colourfully painted and dressed figures twirling about, even though the pictures were Muggle and didn't move at all.

He turned page after page, until he discovered one that nearly made him choke. It was the poster of an artist that worked with fire. On this particulare shot he was jumping through the air (more like flying, Lucius' mind supplied quietly) and holding two double-sided torches in his hands, twirling them around effortlessly. The fire painted perfect circles in the near-darkness, and the man's eyes glowed otherwordly in its shine. The costume showed everything of that young, desireable body while hiding the intimate parts. To Lucius, this poster exuded so much strength and power that he impulsively decided to buy it. He looked at the number of the poster and pulled a rolled-up copy out from a shelf, all the while sighing long-sufferingly when some children next to him started paging through the poster book as well.

"Oh my, I think the world has just stopped spinning," said Snape teasingly when Lucius returned from the stand. "I thought you abhorred this tacky nonsense?"

Lucius raised one eyebrow. "I'd say stuff it, Severus, but I believe you already did that." He shot one look at Severus' empty plate. "It's none of your business, so keep your clever remarks to yourself."

Snape handed his plate to a waiter and smirked. "As you wish. I believe the show is about to start anyway, so let's go."

They went to search their seats. In the crowd Lucius magically shrunk his cardboard poster box and put it in his pocket with no one the wiser. A man from the staff was helping them finding their seats in the dim tent. Lucius was vaguely horrified that Severus hadn't even gotten them a loge. Now he had to suffer through this night in between Muggles, how utterly mortifying.

On the stage grotesquely dressed clowns were walking up and down, putting things on the floor and gesticulating with each other as the remaining people searched for their seats. A few minutes later the lights were out completely and the music started.

Lucius watched the show, half bored and half annoyed, although he did give the Muggles some credit for the music and the costumes; both was quite alluring. In fact, his Veela blood started to burn and he became uneasy on his seat. Never before had his body gone into searching mode when in the company of Muggles, and he started to worry that perhaps his chosen was a Muggle after all … what a cruel joke that would be.

Repressing his unease, Lucius watched the artists on the stage. Young people flew through the air almost as if flying without any help, and with no trace of fear. The absence of animals calmed him somewhat; he had never liked the beastly methods with which wizards and Muggles alike trained their animals.

The clowns' jokes were predictable but Lucius found them amusing just the same, if only for the Muggle references he didn't fully understand. Also, it unexpectedly warmed him to see how somebody could make such an utter fool of themselves and still be loved by the audience. It was something he himself had never been able to indulge in, not that he particularly cared for making a fool of himself, intended or not.

The clowns vanished and the pretty girls with the feathered costume were back, introducing them to a new artist. It was all the same to Lucius. Somehow he couldn't really concentrate on what was happening on stage. His blood still sang, and it didn't seem as if it was stopping anytime soon. Fortunately time was passing quickly and a break gave him an opportunity to flee from the tent and get a glass of wine.

"Are you all right?" Snape asked in a concerned murmur. "I can tell you're in a funk, but why? Is it really so horrible for you? Do you want to go home?"

Lucius drained his glass and took another one. "I'll manage," he replied dryly. "I assume you _did_ drag me here for a reason."

"Indeed," said Snape, smiling slightly. "But really, what has you in such a twist? There are no children nearby, and you've had enough alcohol to bring you through the evening."

"Very funny," shot Lucius back. Still, he knew that Severus was only concerned, so he decided to offer an answer. "I have bloodburn, that's all."

Severus' dark eyes widened, and both eyebrows rose dramatically. "That's all, you say. How uncomfortable is it?"

"It's nothing to worry about," replied Lucius, gulping his second glass of wine down as well. "Maybe I'm just irritated about the many Muggles. One never knows."

"Well, perhaps," conceded Snape.

Lucius directed the conversation gently to other topics and they indulged in plans about how best to get rid of Narcissa. Her demands as well as her taste in jewellery and clothes had become increasingly impertinent, and although Lucius possessed more money than even he could really grasp it was still annoying to satisfy her needless demands.

Soon the break was over, too soon for Lucius' tastes really. He had had such fun thinking over ways how he could best get rid of that harpy he had married. They retook their seats and waited for the second part of the show to begin. Now, with the wine coursing through his system, Lucius was a bit more relaxed, and even eager to see what the Muggles would come up with now. The clowns were back, playing out another scene, then there were a dozen or so people jumping artfully through the air on trampolines. Lucius watched, transfixed. It was interesting, to say the least, to see these people jumping around on the narrow pathways of springy material and making figures.

This part was eventually over, and there were two other young men coming up. They were dressed in skimpy brown costumes, resembling heros from old times and faraway countries. Their arms and wrists were adorned with golden bands and leather bracelets, just like their ankles. The soft music turned into a steady song of beats and melody, and the young men were dancing around, their muscles rippling and their bodies twisting and turning gracefully. Both held flickering, double-sided torches in their hands, and both handled them masterfully. They whirled them around, painted circles and danced with them over the stage, the flames never resting.

As if hypnotised Lucius stared at the unfolding scene, admiring their handling of the torches. This dance was manly and alluring, and he felt his mouth go dry. Merlin, how long had it been for him since he had last had a lover in his bed? And a lover as well built as these two were, at that?

_Too long_.

Severus' knowing sideward glance told Lucius as much, and the teasing smirk became affectionate. Despite himself, Lucius admired the grace of the two fire artists. Wizards had magic as a means to protect themselves from burns but those Muggles did not. To them fire was still dangerous, which made the show all the better.

After a while the dance ended and the two men stepped back. Drums picked up an expectant beat, and the lights turned even darker. A third man entered the stage, and loud clapping and catcalls sounded through the tent. The new artist enflamed his own torches on the ones his two colleagues held. Lucius' eyes were glued to the man. This was the one from the poster, he recognised him easily.

The artist slunk forward on the stage, twirling the torches as if they were mere toys. He twisted his body slowly, dragging the flames over his naked chest and back. When the beat picked up speed, his dance became more furious. He juggled the torches, threw them up in the air and caught them with almost infuriating ease. Behind him the other two men supported the show with their own juggling.

Lucius' breath caught as he watched the figure bend and twist gracefully, tracing the flames over his body over and over again. His blood started to burn again, and this time he wondered if that man was perhaps the reason. He had an incredible aura; Lucius could feel it easily even in his seat.

The first dancer smiled broadly into the audience, then he set the floor on fire. Everything on the stage seemed to burn, but the man was utterly unconcerned. He did backflips right on the trail of flames, offed one torch in his mouth before lighting it again on the other one and dancing enticingly through the sea of flames once more, whirling his torches around him. He did handstands and somersaults effortlessly, never once stepping out of the flames. Lucius noticed belatedly that his feet were bare, as was most of his body.

He only woke from his trance when the audience applauded wildly and screamed their appreciation to the men on stage. The firedancers bowed and smiled. The leading artist put his torch out with closing his hand around the oil-drenched end, and the audience cheered only more.

"Show-off," muttered Snape to Lucius' right.

An inexplicable jealousy reared its ugly head, and Lucius asked sharply, "It seems you know him, Severus. Do you?"

"Indeed," replied Snape smugly. "As do you, my dear friend. In fact, I have arranged for a meeting, should you be interested. I must warn you, though. He might be more than you can handle."

Offended, Lucius let this last statement hang between them. Tonight was disconcerting as it was, he didn't need Severus' smart comments to top it off. And adding insult to injury, he felt that his friend might be right. That aura of the man on stage was making him restless, and his heart had started to flutter, adding to the strain of the bloodburn.

They watched the rest of the show in silence. When it was finally over, Lucius felt both elated and cheated. It hadn't been half bad, he supposed, even if it had been a Muggle circus. But his bloodburn had put him on edge, so he hadn't really been able to enjoy the evening.

"Come, let's go and visit him backstage," urged Snape when the people started to fill out. "Maybe you'll feel better when you're out of here."

Lucius agreed and let Severus pull him through the masses of Muggles. Security men checked their VIP pins and a handwritten invitation Severus produced and finally let them pass through to the private tents of the artists.

"He's usually avoiding his fans," explained Snape, "but that doesn't save him from the tons of admiring letters he gets, or the flowers and presents." He smirked. "Although he's rather enjoying those, especially the chocolates."

They stopped in front of one particular tent. Lucius could see that the lights were on. Severus knocked on the thin plastic door of the tent. It didn't take long for the inhabitant to open. Now, without the costume and make-up he looked more like a normal, twenty-year old man, well-built but somewhat casual in his appearance. He wore a simple black T-shirt and faded jeans that fit him well.

Looking into the face of the firedancer, Lucius recognised the boy at once. He felt slapped in the face as well as punched in the stomach. His wounded pride screamed that he had admired _Harry Potter_ earlier. Harry _sodding_ Potter. His Veela blood started to burn yet again, and with a vengeance that left him reeling.

Potter's green, glowing eyes looked at him concernedly, but Lucius didn't notice. His heart was racing and his breath was coming in short, painful gasps. Merlin, it _hurt_ to be in Potter's overwhelming presence, and the aura of the boy was only making it worse. Lucius was surrounded by rolling, licking magic that set his skin on fire, yet he was starting to get cold, so cold.

From far away he felt Severus take his arm and steady him, and then he knew no more when he passed out cold.

"He's coming around," said a quiet voice just when Lucius was opening his eyes. A brown hand took a cool cloth from his forehead, and another pair of hands helped him sit up.

Snape's deep voice sounded slightly put out. "Had I known what an effect you have on him I wouldn't have taken him here."

"It's not your fault," replied the other voice patronisingly. Lucius, still in a groggy state, assumed that it was Potter's. He was right; Potter's concerned face appeared in his line of vision. "Here, drink this, Malfoy."

Without protesting, Lucius drank the chilled water. It tasted only faintly like a potion, most likely something to help with his headache.

"I'll apparate over to Hogwarts and get something for your bloodburn, Lucius," said Snape and got up. "I trust Harry not to kill you in the meantime." He left the tent, and only seconds later the sharp crack of Apparating could be heard.

"Bloodburn?" Potter asked quietly.

Lucius scowled. It was embarrassing enough to pass out on Potter's doorstep, in no way was he spilling all of his dark secrets to the boy.

"I'm sorry for affecting you like this. Usually people are just turning to mush in my presence," the young man said in a way of explanation.

Lucius snorted. "You obviously think very highly of yourself, Potter."

"Drink some more water," Potter urged and refilled Lucius' glass that he was holding loosely in his hand. "And no, there's no sense in being modest. It's the truth after all." His rather sullen face lightened up considerably. "Oh dear, what a bad host I am. Would you like something to eat? I'm always starving after a show, and my favourite delivery service has great Chinese food. I'll order you the best duck you've ever had, you'll see."

Head reeling, Lucius was in no condition to protest. He only listened to Harry ordering food via telephone and then coming back to sit by the bed he was lying on. The presence of the boy was really overwhelming, and the Veela in him cheered excitedly. Tendrils of Potter's aura sought out his own and melted into it. Suddenly it was too sticky in the tent.

"You have a strange feel to you," said Potter suddenly. "You're somehow different than other people. Different from other wizards as well. You feel a bit like-"

"Don't say it," ground Lucius out. "If you value the peace keep your mouth shut, Potter."

"Call me Harry," replied the boy. "After all you're at least twenty years my senior, and it feels wrong to be called anything else." He shrugged and sprawled gracefully in his chair. "Besides, it makes me feel close to you. I don't have much contact with other wizards anymore."

Lucius would have laughed had his heart not decided to lurch disturbingly in his chest. A wondrous smell invaded his nose, and he was hard-pressed not to snort to get it out of his nose. "Impertinent, aren't we?"

"Do you know me to be otherwise?" Harry retorted cheekily. "Mmh, you really _do_ feel nice, do you know that?"

Lucius decided to change the topic; he felt uncomfortable with that questionable compliment. "Tell me, why are you working in a circus, of all places?"

"It's fun," said Harry and shrugged again. Lucius wished he wouldn't look so edible, sitting inelegantly in this chair. "And I like working with fire."

"I bet you're cheating with spells," said Lucius daringly, eying the young man closely.

"Not necessary." Harry twiddled with his shirt, exposing a bit of his smooth, tanned stomach. All of him seemed to be tanned. Lucius had to look away but he couldn't ignore the rush of blood in his ears that was almost deafening him. "My magic is doing that all by itself."

"Your magic?"

"Sounds stupid, I know, but it has been behaving weirdly for two years now, ever since …" Harry shrugged yet again. A lock of his wild black hair was falling into his forehead. He looked so young, more so than he should, in any case.

"Why have you gone from our world?" Lucius queried, finding himself interested despite the screaming voice in his head that practically ordered him to keep his nose out of things that he had nothing to do with. His blood was churning now, a decidedly strange reaction. And still he could feel Harry's aura and magic envelope him.

For the first time that evening, something in Harry seemed to close off. He looked away from Lucius' face. "We should leave it at that, Mr Malfoy. Severus should be back soon, anyway."

"Does he know?" Lucius pressed. Suddenly this inexplicable jealously was showing itself again. Frankly, he was annoyed that Severus knew something of this importance and hadn't shared the information with him.

"Perhaps," said Harry softly. "Just leave it, you don't want to know anyway."

"What makes you so sure?" growled Lucius. He hated being patronised, especially by those younger than him.

"I'm _saying_ that you don't want to know," replied Harry sharply. "You don't know me, and you only want to satisfy your curiosity. Both are reasons not to trust you with this, our history aside."

Lucius had to admit that the boy had a point, although it irked him immensely. "Very well, as you wish," he said bitterly.

"I'm not keeping it from you to annoy you," said Harry, suddenly sounding tired. "In fact, I'm glad Severus managed to lure you here. I was getting lonely with only him as company."

Lucius bit his tongue and refrained from asking about Potter's friends. Instead he said, "So, what _do_ you do with your free time, if you're not waiting for your ex-enemies to show up in your door?"

Harry smiled his brilliant smile, and the air around him seemed much warmer all of a sudden. "Oh, this and that. I train a lot to keep myself flexible and up to date with the choreography. I also watch my magic closely, see if it's changing. Other than that, not much. I read tacky crime stories and go out with Severus when he has time." He snorted. "I even attempted to write my own stories, but I'm horribly unskilled at it."

Lucius desperately wanted to ask what was going on between Potter and Severus but for the sake of the newfound peace he swallowed that touchy question as well. "You're skilled at dancing," said Lucius. He bit his tongue, tonight was apparently not one for witty remarks. "How did this come about?"

"I was inspired," admitted Harry softly, looking at Lucius with those penetrating, green, green eyes. "With my magic skyrocketing it was the only way to let off steam safely. And I've tried a lot beforehand." He laughed. "Me and dancing, who would have thought?"

_Indeed_, thought Lucius. _Dancing indeed_.

"I feel alive when I dance," continued Harry in that curious voice. And what was even more curious was that Lucius could feel his mood in his aura, as if it was conveying what Harry was trying to say aloud. "It's as if I'm whole again. It's been so long since I felt this well."

The magic pulled back from Lucius' battered aura, and he felt as if he could finally breathe again.

"What are you doing with your time, now that Voldemort is dead?" Harry asked. "I'm only talking about myself, I'm sorry. How is your wife doing?"

Touchy subject. Lucius closed his eyes and fought the roar of the Veela down that wanted to protest very loudly about being married to a harpy of Narcissa's calibre. "She's well," he replied sourly. "Spending more money than she should."

Harry laughed. "I suspected as much. I still read the _Daily Prophet_, and the society reporter goes on and on about her eccentric taste in everything." His face became serious. "Why don't you divorce her if she's annoying you so much?"

"It's not that easy," retorted Lucius, a tad amused about Harry's pragmatism. He was tired, and the magic was tugging at him again, luring him to merge with that strange feeling and that even stranger but oh so heavenly smell.

"It could be," insisted Harry. "True, the papers would probably tear you apart, but who cares about such things? It's your life, in the end you'll have to deal with your decisions."

Lucius' Veela blood sang to that small, awe-inspiring speech. In a way Harry was right, but could Lucius really afford to put his position in society, questionable as it was, on the line for something as mundane as a divorce? It wasn't as if he hadn't gone through this with Severus several times …

During his musings it knocked on the door and Harry got up with a grace that left Lucius wondering if he still was in his right mind.

"Hongkong Taxi," the voice of a man said.

Lucius listened, forcing himself to remain uninterested. It was spectacular how he failed.

"You are that guy from the show, the firedancer, aren't you?" the same voice asked only seconds later. "Man, you're great! How are you doing it, walking through the fire like that?"

The smell of food wafted through the room, and Harry's reply was more than curt. Still, the man wasn't letting up.

"Name's Harry, isn't it? I'm Tom. Would you like to go for a drink sometime?"

"Sorry, but I don't have time for that," said Harry as patiently as he could. "Thanks for asking though." He stepped back and the man was following insistently. Upon entering he spotted Lucius lying on the bed, who was looking for all the world as if he belonged there. "If you would put the food on the table here … thank you."

The delivery boy put his parcels down, all the while glaring at Lucius. "I see why you don't have time. Well, here's my number if you ever want to go out with someone closer to your age."

Harry took the card and held out the money for the man to take, but he waved him away haughtily.

"Keep it. It's my treat tonight." He took Harry's hand and unexpectedly kissed it. "Give me a call, handsome."

Then he was gone, and Harry sank down in his chair, sighing.

"And you always have this effect on people?" Lucius asked idly. It was hard to keep that damn, irrational jealousy in check.

"This one was gay, I think," said Harry, carefully taking the boxes and putting the food on plates. Lucius noted that he made sure not to touch it in any way. "Usually I'm drawing them out wherever I go. It's slightly disconcerting."

Lucius tried to sit up and found that he was finally able to. His head had stopped spinning, and his blood and heart had cooled down as well. Harry handed him a plate with steaming China food which Lucius accepted gratefully. Bloodburn apparently left him hungry, not that he'd been able to eat much today at all. Narcissa's nagging earlier that day had seen to that.

For a few minutes they ate in silence, the sound of clinking cutlery the only thing disrupting the stillness. To Lucius it seemed utterly surreal that he was sitting here with Harry Potter of all people and eating Chinese food from a delivery service of all things. When he looked up from his still steaming rice, he noticed that Harry's food didn't seem to be hot at all. No steam was coming up, and Harry was poking at it with a wistful look on his face.

"Is it cold already?" Lucius asked, frowning slightly. It was terrifying how familiar he was already being with the boy.

"It's always cold," answered Harry sadly. "I have to keep it actively warm, but most of the time I'm tired of doing that. It's not natural."

"No, it's not," agreed Lucius. "Why don't you tell me what's up with you? I only get tidbits, and it's driving me crazy not to know what you're talking about half of the time."

"I would like to," admitted Harry. "But not today." He hesitated and finally seemed to come to a decision. Only seconds later his food was steaming up again.

Lucius barely twitched a lid, but it was impressive to see Potter use his magic like that. This small action already sent chills up and down his body, chills of the hot kind. His blood started rushing again, but at least the burn didn't come back.

"Then why don't we go out sometime?" Lucius offered, spearing a piece of duck with his fork. "You shouldn't only eat this questionable … stuff anyway." Silently he wondered if he had gone barmy now, asking Potter out like this. As if there wasn't a lifetime of mistrust and even hate between them.

Harry's lips twitched in a small smile. "Thanks, but I can't. The circus is moving soon, and the choreographer will have a new show ready in a few weeks. I have to study it." He ate a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. "Besides, your offer is rather transparent, you know."

Lucius allowed himself an appreciative smirk. "So it is, but only so you won't be confused. You are hiding behind your work, _Harry_."

Harry smiled back at him. "Only to spare you a headache. I won't go back to the wizarding world anytime soon. Not before I have figured out what to do with myself." Mischief was dancing in his eyes, just like Harry had danced through the fire. "But if you're brave enough to come to a Muggle restaurant with me I _might_ agree if you ask me again."

"I _might_ think about it," said Lucius, amused. "Do you still receive owl post or do I have to contact you by Muggle means?"

Harry laughed; it was a wonderful, warm sound. "I'm not _that_ far off the road, don't worry." He was smiling when he devoured his food, and Lucius could feel that smile all over him.

During their meal Severus returned, looking mildly affronted that they had eaten without him. Lucius smirked, Severus was not only a gourmet but also a gourmand. Insatiable, really. And not only where food was concerned. His relationship to that equally insatiable Granger woman only proved it further. Although the two of them did make a good couple, he supposed. It was downright scary how much they completed each other.

Lucius took a swig out of the flask Severus gave him to ease the remaining feeling of exhaustion. With yet another surge of irritation he also watched how Severus stole food from Harry's plate, not that the boy seemed to mind much.

"It's getting late, we should take our leave," said Snape finally, when both plates of food were devoid of rice and sauce. Harry had licked the plates clean after Severus had found the last rice corn. It was alarming how much Lucius enjoyed seeing his pink tongue lapping at the cool porcelain.

"Aw," protested Harry, winding his arms around Severus' in a mock-clingy gesture. "When will I see you again? Since you hooked up with Hermione you hardly ever have time for me."

"You know how she is," replied Snape, smirking. "But I'll write you soon, I promise."

Harry did indeed seem to know how Hermione was because he didn't argue. Instead he rose from his chair, stretching tantalisingly. "And you, Mr Malfoy? Will you perhaps write me as well?" He smiled mischivously. "I _might_ even write you back."

"In that case I might," replied Lucius, smirking back. He rose and put his jacket back on but refrained from redoing his tie.

Severus snorted. "Be prepared, Lucius, Harry is known for long letters."

Lucius' smirk only widened. "Is that so? In that case I feel _almost_ compelled to write you, if only to see if Severus is right."

Harry smiled in obvious delight. Lucius wondered how lonely the boy really was if he was accepting him so readily. Even his aura exuded joy, a feeling that left Lucius rather light-headed. And not a bit smug; it was strange (and rare, his inner voice supplied helpfully) for him to make someone feel good. But with Harry he had a feeling that he didn't need his pompuous pretentions. The only thing Harry expected from people was honesty, and, as far as Lucius was concerned, he could have that.

"I can hardly wait," said Harry coyly. "I bet you write wonderful letters."

"Stop flirting, Harry," teased Snape in his deep baritone voice. "It will go to Lucius' head. As if he needs even more compliments, the vain git."

"Deserved vain," Lucius quipped, and Harry laughed while Severus' smirk threatened to become a grin.

They left the tent, stepping out into the cool night air. Lucius watched as Severus pulled the boy into an affectionate hug. This time he kept his cool, but only because he reminded himself that Harry was most likely rather lonely in the Muggle world. When the boy shuffled over to him, it was hard not to hug him as well.

"Well, good night then," said Harry, looking up at Lucius with those incredibly green eyes.

To Lucius, he looked so, dare he say it, _cute_, that it almost hurt. The beast in him tried to reach out but he stomped the urge down. "Good night, Harry," he offered, feeling elated when the boy's face lit up in a smile again. "Good luck for your show."

"Thanks."

They stared at each other, Harry's magic churning around them, pulling Lucius in. In a moment of weakness Lucius reached out and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Only shortly, to make the moment less awkward, but instead of appeasing them it made his blood roar right back up, and Harry also looked upset.

Severus took Lucius arm and pulled him away. "I'll write you soon, Harry. Sleep well."

"You too," replied Harry quietly.

Lucius could feel his eyes bore into his back until they Apparated away.

Lucius waited three days, then he gave up and sat down to write Harry a letter. He had a lot to tell, really, even if it was only emotional baggage. Some of it, he supposed, would finally go somewhere where it was appreciated. Carefully, he dipped his pen (five-hundred years old and a gift from Shakespeare himself) into the sepia coloured ink he kept for private purposes and thought about what he could tell the boy.

In the end, he decided to just give him an update of the Ministry, weaving in small tidbits of information about his own family life. Not that there was much of it left. Narcissa was dallying around somewhere – he really didn't care where, and with whom – and Draco …

Lucius found himself thanking Harry for killing Bellatrix Black in that final battle, because if he hadn't done it then Lucius surely would have. Harry had seen how that beast had tortured his only son to insanity. Harry had, in a way, sought revenge for her deed on his son, and more thoroughly than Lucius might have done.

Sighing deeply and fighting with a fatigue that wasn't unknown to him anymore, Lucius sealed the letter and sent it off with his trusted owl Capricorn. Thinking about Draco hurt, and Lucius had exhausted the ways to find solace from that pain.

For a few days he went through his routines, almost forgetting Harry over his work. Only the poster he had bought and which was now hanging across the room, was reminding him of the amazingly flexible, well-built boy. He had an office at the Ministry but he would be damned before he went there and showed his face to Fudge, that incompetent moron, or worse, his little lapdog Umbridge. Both of them were practically frothing at the mouth to catch him red-handed at something and Lucius had a low tolerance for idiocy these days. Not that anybody would miss those two were they to vanish under fishy circumstances.

After four days, a large white owl was soaring through the open window of his study, carefully landing on his desk. Lucius admired her pristine beauty for a moment before he relieved it of the letter it was carrying. "Go up and have a nap, if you want," he said, and the owl took off with only a whisper of her wings.

Lucius turned the thick letter over in his hands, already feeling the tingling brand of magic all over it. Only one person would be so generous with their magic, and he was right. In black script words blossomed on the envelope. First his name and then Harry's, and then drawings of blossoms and leaves and vines were blossoming all over the envelope, vanishing again after a few moments. No drawing was the same, in fact it seemed as if each plant was just growing from the ink that was spilling onto the parchment, growing wherever it wanted.

It was almost too beautiful to destroy, but after a long while during which Lucius had looked at the little piece of art in his hands, he took a paper knife and carefully slit the envelope open.

Harry's letter was art in itself, Lucius concluded after reading the seven pages of Muggle paper. Where he felt cold and lonely Harry still held this immense wonder for the world and its offerings, and it was almost too much to bear for him. It was as if he was given a chance to look at the world again without all his prejudices and misconceptions, and without the walls he had built to protect himself.

Somehow it was hard to believe that this boy had killed several people, but even the righteousness in Potter endeared him to Lucius. If there was one hero in the world, it was Harry.

Lucius sighed heavily. And still Harry was left outside alone, away from his friends and without a family that cared for him. Having faced losses himself, Lucius could feel with him only too well. And perhaps Harry was even better off, not having known a family in the first place, whereas Lucius had lost what he had loved most.

He sighed again. Why did Harry have to be so understanding about Draco? Lucius felt closer to breaking than he had in years, and it made him angry that fate had taken such cruel measures to punish him for his wrongdoings.

He leaned back in his comfortable leather chair and stared at the poster on the opposite wall. Harry was something like a dream, or like the figure on the poster. He was there, he existed, but you couldn't grasp him and keep him for longer than a fleeting moment. Still he was solid enough to make you think, and Merlin, Lucius was ready to think about a lot of things.

His numb forefinger traced the post-scriptum, the place and time where Harry's circus would stop next. It was a tender invitation, and Lucius had every intention to make the fullest of it.

The Muggles were no better than the last time Lucius had been to the circus. The children were still rampaging around, and women were discreetly – or not so discreetly – trying to flirt with him. One man had even asked him if he was interested in a job as model. Thankfully the patented Malfoy death glare had sent him off running quickly, before Lucius had lost his temper completely.

Why he suffered throught he whole show he didn't know. It was the same as the last, nothing new to see. But he remembered only too well when Harry entered the stage, making his blood boil up in mere moments. Gasping, Lucius watched the young man perform his alluring dance, and something started to _pull_ in him. Something hot and angry and wonderful was tearing at his wildly beating heart, and the blood in his veins burned so hot, so, so _hot_. It was as if flames were burning through him, and Harry was dancing along the trail.

And then Harry's part was over and Lucius collapsed in his seat. He was glad he had opted for a loge this time, so he had been able to spare himself the annoyance of a glamour. A simple notice-me-not spell was enough to keep the eyes of curious Muggles away.

Repressing a groan, he took his glass of wine and drank it down without tasting it. The rest of the show he needed to recover even halfway from this insane attack to his already battered constitution.

Finally the torture was over and Lucius Apparated over to where he could feel Harry's overwhelming presence.

"Hello," said Harry in greeting. His eyes shone in pleasure at seeing Lucius standing in the middle of his room. Uncomplicated as he was he grasped both of Lucius' hands and sat him down in a comfortable looking armchair. His grip left a chill to the skin that woke Lucius up from his exhaustion. "I'm glad you came. I could feel you the whole time."

Harry went away and returned moments later with two glasses and a large jug filled with water. From where he held it ice flowers were growing. Lucius was unable to remark on it, so he only watched the water being chilled to the point of freezing.

"Are you well?" Harry asked when he had handed Lucius a glass of water. "You're burning up."

"It's only the bloodburn again," replied Lucius curtly. He greedily drank the water and helped himself to more.

"You know, I read this up," said Harry quietly, and Lucius stilled in his movement. "Bloodburn can be dangerous if it's not treated correctly."

Lucius exhaled sharply. "I see you haven't lost that curiosity of yours."

Harry smiled apologetically. "Can't help myself, sir. You felt different than all the others, and I remembered a few days ago just where I have felt something that compares to it." He stretched on his own chair and raked both hands through his hair. "Fleur Delacour, full-blooded Veela. She married Bill Weasley a few years ago. They found each other early, they were lucky. I wonder why you haven't ever, you know, found the one for you."

Lucius looked at the glass in his hands. Despite the appalling fact that Potter now knew what troubled him, it felt amazingly good to be able to talk about it. "They never happened upon me," he said flatly. "And the circumstances were always less than inviting to start a search."

"No, they weren't, that's true," said Harry, smiling apologetically. "But if your body starts now and you repress it …"

"I'm well aware of the consequences," sighed Lucius, "so don't bother listing them for me." He wished for whisky instead of water, so he could drown his woes with it.

"You're tired," Harry stated softly.

Lucius felt enveloped in blanket-soft magic, and Harry's aura was shining on him like the gentlest sunshine. "You would be as well if you were worrying so much," replied Lucius without bothering to think over his words first. "But perhaps you are. I wouldn't know."

Warm hands stroked over his soul. "Yes, actually I am." Harry's voice was gentle and calming. "You know, I felt bad for Draco for a long time. I still feel bad for all my friends I couldn't save. It seems I can't stop worrying about them." To the imaginary hands made of Harry's power came real hands that were touching Lucius' hair in the softest of cool touches. "I'm sorry I couldn't help him, so sorry."

"It's not your fault." Lucius hated how his voice had deserted him. Emotions which he usually kept close to himself were overwhelming him now, seeking a way out of their confinement. "You tried, and it's more than anybody else did."

"It was not enough." Harry sounded helpless now. Somehow he had moved out of his chair. His cold hands found their way around Lucius' unresisting body, and he was hugging him tightly. "Please forgive me."

Lucius sighed deeply. All he could really do was hug Harry back, so he allowed himself the luxury of embracing another, although literally cold, human being. It had been so terribly long. And who would have thought that this apology could ease his festering pain to a more bearable level? This boy was just as sad as he was and deserved absolution from the sins he hadn't committed.

"It's all right, Harry," he whispered into the dark hair. "Thanks for for helping us at all. Ssh."

He didn't know when or how it happened but suddenly he had Harry on his lap, snuggling up against him and stroking his hair unashamedly. "I went to visit him once," Harry confessed after a few heavy minutes. "I wanted to make sure he's being treated properly."

Lucius stroked his back when Harry needed a few moments to compose himself. "I know. It's disconcerning to meet him." Harry's whole body was cool but he supposed he made up for it with the heat of his bloodburn.

"That's putting it mildly," answered Harry sadly. He put his head in the crook of Lucius' shoulder, completely invading the last vestiges of Lucius' personal space. "It's like whe've never met, like a whole line of my history has gone with him. I couldn't bear seeing him again, he reminded me of all the things that have gone as well. It was just so depressing."

"Like something has died with him," Lucius murmured, almost choking on that admission. "Thank you for being there for him, thank you for everything."

Tears chilled his neck, and the magic around them drew together, curling in itself as if trying to hide from the outside world. The more Harry let go of his anguish, the lighter Lucius felt. It was good for him to hold the weak body in his arms and comfort him. He had tried to hate Harry Potter in the past, Merlin knew how he had tried, but never, not even in his darkest moments, did he bring himself to actually mean it. And his tears were now cleaning them both, giving way to the long overdue healing.

Lucius held Harry in his arms for a long time. The boy needed him just as much as Lucius needed to hold him, and when it was time to leave it almost was a physical pain to do so.

"Will you come back?" Harry asked quietly, sadness pouring out of him like dark molasses. His tears had dried eventually but he didn't look happier for it.

Lucius traced the soft cheek of this amazing young man with the fingers of his right hand. This time he didn't have to fight with his voice to say what he wanted to say. "If you stop worrying about Draco, then I might." He bent down and brushed a comforting kiss onto the cool forehead with that famous scar. "Forgive yourself, Harry. I've forgiven you a long time ago."

The Veela in him howled when he Apparated away, leaving a torn Harry behind.

Three months passed until Lucius could find the courage to actually consider visiting Harry again. The tender wound Harry had opened all those nights ago was slow to heal, although Lucius truly did feel better, knowing that Harry had suffered because of a boy whom he barely knew, let alone could stand.

There was that, and the undeniable fact that his second nature simply refused to be parted any longer from the young man it obviously found worthy enough to explore further. Lucius missed the feeling of magic rolling against his own aura, and he even missed the cool skin against his own.

Severus was a great help securing a VIP ticket for the premiere show of the circus. Lucius remebered well how Harry had told him that he would present a new choreography soon, and he was eager to see the new dance.

"Lucius!" called a shrill female voice through the empty hallways of the manor. "Where are you going?"

"Out, and thankfully without you," he sneered coldly, turning around rigidly. "Why don't you spend some more money, Narcissa? At least you're quiet then."

Narcissa Malfoy pursed her lips in annoyance. "Ever the gentleman, my dear."

Lucius took his walking cane and rightened the lapel of his suit. "You wouldn't know a thing about that, my dear," he said, deceptively gentle and soft. "You prefer to spend your time away, not that I complain."

His wife's face became an ugly mask of hate, and the look from her eyes could have cut glass. "Who is it?" she hissed angrily. "Have you found a little catamite at last? Who would have thought? I certainly haven't, my dear husband." She laughed coldly. "I've been living better than you all these years, Lucius, and I don't plan to let some little slut change that."

"Do you feel so safe?" Lucius asked with a sneer. "Be careful, Narcissa, one of these days your arrogance will break your neck. I'm already listing reasons for a divorce, so don't push me."

"How dare you!" she cried. "All those years I stayed with you, even though you mean nothing to me, nothing! And this is how you repay me?"

A dull pain was starting to spread in Lucius' chest. "Amazing what money could make you do. Maybe I should have divorced you long ago and put an end to this pointless farce before I got myself so unfortunately trapped," he replied flatly. "You never did a thing for me, and you didn't move a finger when your sister mangled our son." His eyes seized her up detachedly. "You're already dead to me, _my dear_. Don't tempt me to make that final."

Narcissa was wise enough to leave him alone after that. She left and took her anger away, but Lucius knew that he would have to face that problem soon. Harry had been right, this harpy belonged out of his house; it certainly didn't belong with him.

He was in a state of despair when he arrived at the circus. The city was much to lively for his tastes, at least tonight. Spain always was so full of life at night. For a moment he allowed himself to wallow in misery once more, then he showed the guard his ticket and was led to the VIP area by a pretty brunet woman. Maybe he had looked so wistful that she felt compelled to tend to him for she wasn't leaving him alone for the remainder of the time until the show started.

Up in his loge he wondered if Harry would want to see him at all. He had put him off for three months, which was a long time even for him. Lucius felt dreadful for ignoring the young man, especially since he had been such pleasant company the last time.

Sighing, he sipped his wine. He was getting old and tired when he considered Potter's company as something to look forward to, but then again the war had changed all of them. Lucius was tired of closing himself off, he was alone enough as it was. And Harry had felt so comforting and nice …

The show was as it always had been. By now Lucius had seen it so often in such shorts periods of time that he couldn't be surprised easily. A few things were indeed different, some songs, for instance, and a few new costumes and attractions had taken the places of others, but the only thing that really managed to captivate him was Harry.

The music was new but just as tantalising and animating as the other piece. Harry's dance had become more slow, more artistic, and he was dancing over the stage looking like some kind of fallen god. Surrounded by hot fire he was so fine, so beautiful …

Lucius gasped when the pain returned with full-force. The swirling fire glowed menacingly into his eyes, and his burning blood was making him swoon even in his seat. He gripped the railing of the loge tightly. His heart was almost literally trying to get out of his chest, presumably to offer itself to the creature on stage.

When the dance was over and Harry gone from the stage, Lucius was finally allowed to relax. He ignored the roaring applause in favour of steadying his shallow breathing. It was a predictable nightmare, coming here and knowing what being close to Harry did to him. It was abhorrent and beautiful at once because he knew, he knew …

At the end of the show, when everybody was filing out, Lucius managed to scrape his last remnants of consciousness together and Apparated to where Harry was. He was too far away from home to even consider it, although he almost wished he could go back there and suffer in silence. Almost.

The cool arms that welcomed him were pure heaven. The heat that held him in a death grip recoiled, ready for fight, but it stood no chance against the cooling, fragrant blanket that wrapped itself readily around him. Lucius could breathe again, finally, and that bit of sweet air he was able to catch robbed him of his conscience at last.

"I don't know whether I should feel insulted that you pass out each time you're here or flattered that you allow me to see you so weak," a calm voice greeted him when Lucius finally came to. Harry put a new, cold cloth on Lucius' forehead and then looked at him oddly. "How are you?"

"Better," rasped Lucius, gratefully sipping the water Harry gave him.

They sat there in awkward silence. Lucius could almost feel the moment where Harry would break it, it was so tense.

"Why didn't you at least write me?" the boy asked quietly. "Was it because of-"

"It has nothing to do with Draco," Lucius interrupted him firmly, or as firmly as he could. "I accepted the inevitable long ago. And I meant what I said. I was just being a coward, that's all."

They fell silent again. Harry was biting his lower lip and Lucius closed his eyes so he wouldn't be tempted even by that nervous gesture.

"But why would you fear to come back?" Harry queried softly. "Has it to do with me?" He clenched his tanned fingers into the chair and looked so vulnerable that it itched in Lucius' own fingers to soothe him. "I didn't upset you, did I?"

"No, I wanted to see your show," replied Lucius, deciding to be brutally honest this once. "It's … inspiring."

Harry's eyes looked at him, asking the painful question he couldn't ask aloud. _Why then did you leave me for so long?_ He looked to be close to tears, in fact.

"It's not you that's keeping me away," Lucius explained gently, tiredly. His heart was lurching again, but this time it was a hopeful lurch, like a tug that wanted him to do a certain thing. "It's myself."

"How is it your fault that you're feeling miserable in my presence?" Harry asked dully. "I'm obviously doing something wrong."

"Don't you understand, Harry?" Lucius sighed. "I'm one of _them_. It's my own fault for getting myself caught up by you so easily. I'm one of those people who only annoy you and I fear to be looked at like you look at them."

Harry sat there in stunned silence, looking wide-eyed at his guest. "But you're not anything like those people," he finally managed. Then he touched Lucius' still warm forehead and brushed over it tenderly. "Was I the reason for-"

"Yes," Lucius hissed in pleasure. His heart fluttered at the gentle touch. He closed his eyes, hoping that the things he was about to say would come out easier. "I never got to search my chosen. I kept it back the last fifteen or so years." He heard Harry choke in pity. "And suddenly there are you." He revelled in that exclamation. It was true after all, only that he had needed the last few months to come to terms with this.

"I'm nothing," Harry whispered. "I have nothing but my magic. We don't know each other at all. How could you want that? And see, I'm cold even now."

Sighing again, Lucius leaned his head into the chilling touch. "Don't underestimate yourself, Harry. You have a lot to give, I know." He opened his eyes and looked in Harry's dark, confused ones. "And I have a lot to give myself."

He felt the bed shift next to him, and then there was a lithe body snuggling up to his own, and two muscular arms winding themselves around his torso. It felt simply wonderful.

"Why is it happening so fast?" Harry murmured into Lucius' chest where he had put down his head.

"We lost a lot of time," Lucius replied softly. His hands stroked over a strong back and through baby soft hair. "Will you let me stay with you for a while?"

"Mmmh," Harry hummed.

It was all Lucius needed to hear.

Despite telling Harry the truth Lucius still felt himself going through the ancient rituals. They were his heritance, and even through his chosen had accepted him readily his blood called for the age-old dance of courting.

Gone was the bloodburn and the disturbing pains in his heart. Instead, Lucius felt strangely elated most of the time, which was, not that surprisingly, all of the times when he thought about Harry. At times he was nervous, even giddy. It was as if his middle-aged body would go through the experience of its first love now. It was too strange to think about it for too long, and also sometimes more than just disturbing.

At night, Lucius dreamed about naked, bronze skin that was sliding sensually against his own, and of clever, cool hands that would tame the heat of his neediness and lead him to completion better than anybody else ever had. The tenderness of these moments stole into reality and made him burn up for Harry worse than it had before, although it wasn't as hurtful.

After only meeting him a few times since that fateful night, Lucius could already feel his poor heart swell with affection and lust for Harry, and he wondered if the boy would ever let himself be touched in that way. He seemed to need the time to come to terms with serious interest.

Lucius knew what it felt like not to know what love was. To _fear_ what love was. He had gone through all of this himself. Unfortunately he had lost the possibility to show his love to his son when he still had the chance to do so. But now he had Harry, and he would be damned before he let him go again. He was his to love, and he would.

At Christmas, Lucius surprised his chosen with a trip to Tahiti, a place where Harry hadn't yet been, despite his restless lifestyle. They spent two wonderful weeks on the islands, hopping from one to the next and visiting as many sights as they could. Harry snapped shot after shot of Lucius, only to get the same treatment in return. When they returned they spent three evenings only sorting out pictures and putting them in albums.

The most beautiful gift out of the ones Harry made in return was a tentative kiss and skin against his that was warmer to Lucius' touch than all the times before.

"You feel different," Lucius murmured against a shoulder when they cuddled together to sleep. He kissed the bronzened flesh and sighed contentedly. "I like sleeping next to you."

"And you still feel just as nice as before," Harry laughed quietly. He turned around and snuggled back up into Lucius' arms. His eyes searched Lucius' in the darkness. "Are you ever mad that I, well, don't _sleep_ with you?"

Lucius smirked and dropped a kiss to Harry's forehead. It felt like satin, so neutral. "I would lie if I said no, although _mad_ is not the word I would use." His expression became gentle. "Don't worry about that. I'm just happy to be with you."

"I never throught you would be like this," said Harry softly into the darkness. "Thank you."

Lucius shuddered in pleasure at the hot feel of Harry's ever lively magic against his own heated skin. Like a cocoon it billowed around them, slowly luring them to sleep and promising pleasant dreams. Hot spikes of affection speared him from the inside out when he pulled Harry even closer, and when Harry sighed softly he knew that he, on some level, understood how deep Lucius' feelings really were.

March had come and Lucius felt that he couldn't put off the issue of his ever annoying wife any longer. Merlin, how he _hated_ her. Her cold demeanor regarding Draco was bad enough but knowing that she had only clung to him because of her expensive lifestyle made him downright mad. Harry knew this, of course, but instead of jumping at the chance to get rid of her it was he who calmed Lucius down night after night when he and Narcissa had had another row over something of no imortance.

His passiveness in that matter actually was what made Lucius go to the responsible Ministry clerk one day and finally file for divorce. He simply couldn't stand it any longer how much Harry put his own needs behind because he was so considerate. Lucius knew that Harry was afraid of driving him away – as if there was a chance in hell that would happen. He wanted Harry to demand things from him so they could move forward in their relationship.

Lucius sighed. While it was very satisfying on the emotional level (god, it was _bad_ to know how much Harry loved him) he was slowly getting restless. He wanted to bond with his chosen. He wanted to make final what they had started so many months ago. Harry deserved nothing less than his rightful place next to Lucius because Lucius wanted to be able to openly offer him heaven on earth, and the stars should he ever wish for them.

"You're so hot," murmured Harry sleepily in a thick voice. "Do you have heartburn? Do you want some water?"

Lucius shook his head, although Harry could feel it more than see in the darkness of his bedroom. This was the moment, the perfect opportunity to tell Harry just how deeply he had affected him. "I love you, Harry," said Lucius quietly, kissing the boy on the forehead and pulling him closer against his chest. "That's all."

Harry remained quiet, but Lucius could feel his dark eyes on him, and the magic cocooning them protectively. It wouldn't do for his beloved to worry about such things. Softly, gently, he coaxed Harry back to sleep, stroking his back and feathering kisses onto his wild hair.

Visiting Draco was always a trial for Lucius. Not because travelling was so exhausting or because he didn't really want to make time for him. In both cases Lucius was more than willing to do what he had to to ensure that he got so see him. No, it was the emotional turmoil he had to face each and every time. Seeing Draco exhausted his reserves and made him see how wrong their lives had become.

But this time it was different. This time Harry was with him, ready to offer support.

The maidens were cordial as always when Lucius announced his arrival. Especially Harry drew their attention like no one Lucius had ever met, but then again his aura was larger than ever, and warmer as well. And then they better should be attentive and helpful as well since Lucius paid them an obscene amount of money for Draco's care. Harry had long since taken his hand and Lucius saw a frown on his timid face.

The villa looked like a victorian mansion, painted white and overflowing with colourful flowers of every kind. It looked light and airy. Music floated through the spring air. It was a very peaceful atmosphere.

"'ee's 'ere," said a maiden in a pretty French dress. "'ee's just deezcovered painting, Monsieur Malfoy." She pronounced it _Mal-foa_. Her smile was real, and for a second Lucius admired this young woman who could bear to be around mentally damaged people longer than two hours without going crazy herself.

They were led into a sunny patio. Harry gasped at the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting on a stool as easily as if he belonged there, working on a large painting that was sitting on an easle. Tubes of colours were lying everywhere.

Lucius squeezed Harry's hand in comfort. Oh, he knew that Draco looked just like he should: shoulder length hair that shone like molten sunlight, well-built body and eyes so clear it shocked people who looked at him. He looked so healthy it seemed perverse that he should be anything else than that.

"Draco, you 'ave visitors," said the maiden cheerfully. "Maybe you'll show them your newest painting?"

Her lilting voice seemed almost surreal in the sunlight. The air was sticky yet fresh and fragrant. Lucius sighed. This was the world his son belonged to now. It was a dream which had nothing to do with his cold reality anymore.

Draco looked up from his painting. "Hello," he said in a rough, manly voice. Lucius knew he wouldn't sound like that but the Cruciatus Curse had forced him to scream his vocal cords raw until they had been beyond repair.

Harry choked and gripped Lucius' hand tighter. "Hi," he replied.

"Draco, this is Harry," said Lucius gently. "He wanted to meet you, so I brought him along."

Draco put his palette and brush down and hopped off his stool. In a few strides he stood in front of them, staring at Harry as if mesmerised. It was always like this, Lucius surmised, no matter where he stood or went, Harry's immense aura never failed to attract the attention of those around him. Finally, Draco offered his hand, smiling lazily. "Pleased to meet you."

Harry took it shyly, shaking it carefully. Draco was genuinely pleased, Lucius could tell. His jealousy, usually rearing up whenever somebody touched Harry, was kept down tightly. He didn't want to ruin this visit for all of them.

"The maiden said you have started painting. What are you painting?"

Draco's gaze turned to Lucius. It held a strange detachment, or rather a familiarity which had been built slowly over the years. He didn't recognise him as his father, but he did recognise him as someone who came to visit him regularly and asked questions about what he was doing.

"I have these dreams," said Draco in his damaged and yet alluring voice. "They are so colourful that one day I wanted to draw them." He shrugged elegantly. "I've been doing it ever since." He looked back at Harry. "You look a bit like the guy I've been painting."

"Really?" Harry asked softly. "Like who?"

"Why, Harry Potter of course," said Draco, smiling widely. "Do you think my daddy will allow me to be friends with him when we meet? I've been _dying_ to meet him."

"I'm sure he would," said Lucius smoothly.

"He must be wonderful," Draco continued, raking a hand through his hair. "Daddy told me lots of stories about him how he killed the Dark Lord and his followers."

"Did your daddy tell you that Harry Potter couldn't save his friends after all?" Harry said dully. "He's not so great."

Lucius heart started to race at the feeling of that incredible sadness that was polluting Harry's thoughts. Draco seemed to feel it as well.

"My daddy always told me that heroes aren't meant to save everybody. They are meant to kill the evil person who's threatening them." His grey eyes looked so honestly at Harry that Lucius could almost see his beloved gain back his confidence. "And Harry Potter did that, didn't he? So he's a hero."

"If you say so," said Harry. He sounded much better, and his protecting magic started to spread out again, caressing every nook and cranny of the patio. Caressing _them_.

Lucius was, once more, astounded about how much magic Harry possessed; usually a wizard only started to spread it when he had significantly more than the average, but to fill out this place so completely meant that Harry was more powerful than Dumbledore and Voldemort combined. And it looked as if Harry was actively keeping more of the seeping magic in. It was addicting to be in his presence for as long as Lucius had been. Not that he intended to fight it.

"Come and have a look at my pictures," offered Draco enthusiastically.

He led them back into the mansion where he had a few rooms for himself. One was filled completely with his painting utensils. Paintings covered every last place on the walls. The bright sunlight that filtered in made the scene unreal. Dust was dancing in these bright stripes.

"Oh Merlin," whispered Harry as soon as they stepped into the room. Transfixed the stood in the doorway and looked at the dozens of paitings. All of them showed scenes from Hogwarts and the battle.

Lucius caught his breath. All of these paintings were proof that Draco hadn't completely forgotten himself. It was painful to see them. They were beautifully painted, a bit expressionistic, and so real it made him shudder.

Harry finally stepped in and wandered along the walls, looking at every single painting. Some scenes and places he apparently remembered fondly for he sighed wistfully and touched the dry paint longingly. Lucius followed his path, seeing Severus, Dumbledore, McGonagall and numerous of Draco's friends and fellow students.

But the paintings that really took both their breaths away were those from the last battle. Draco had painted the sky in an angry red, the ground barren and dark. Darkly cloaked figures stood everywhere, fighting against other, lighter figures. He had perfectly captured the menacing flashes of wand fire. It was so glaring Lucius instinctively flinched away.

Others showed Harry from afar, standing up against Voldemort with a grim expression on his too-young face. Lucius' insides ached with longing to keep this evil away from his chosen, although it had already happened a long time ago. And there was one picture of Harry from close up. Draco had managed to catch him so lifelike it was astounding. The eyes of picture-Harry glowed magically, and his face was forever caught in that angry snarl; he had just cast the spell that had killed Voldemort at last.

There were two other pictures, however, that didn't fit in. Lucius saw them only now because they leaned face-up against the wall. Carefully he took one and turned it around, only to gasp in shock.

"What's up?" Harry asked concernedly. When he cast a look on the painting himself he only said, "Oh, dear …"

It was Harry, dancing in a sea of fire. And opposite to all the other paintings, this was _moving_. Mesmerised, they watched the person in the painting dance over the stage, flipping back and jumping and playing with the flickering flames easily.

"Don't look at that one, it's evil," said Draco from behind. His voice sounded anxious now. "One day it just started moving! I wanted to throw it away, but Marianne said I should keep it."

"It's beautiful," Lucius breathed.

"He even went into the other pictures and set everything on fire, only that it didn't burn," Draco continued, rocking back and forth on his feet. Lucius' heart ached, seeing his jeans-clad, grown son like this. "I don't like it, it's not mine."

"I will take it," replied Lucius, maybe a bit too quickly. "Will you give it to me?"

Draco only nodded. His grey eyes were wide and troubled. Lucius sighed in relief and turned his gaze to the other painting. This one was not beautiful. It showed the exact opposite. He saw Bellatrix Lestrange and Harry, but what he saw made his blood freeze. In slow motion and glaring, mutilated colours and forms he watched how his beloved cursed her for cursing his son. He could feel the magic vibrating from Harry even in the picture, and he could feel hot pain shoot through him as if he was suffering himself from a nasty hex.

Arms steadied him, and only when Harry's magic licked at him comfortingly he realised that he was crying. _Crying_! That picture was obviously painted from Draco's point of view when Bellatrix had already done her best to torture her own nephew.

"Merlin, it's awful," whispered Lucius, wiping the wetness from his cheeks.

"Yes, it is," murmured Harry calmly. He sounded too controlled, as if he wanted to lash out at something desperately.

Meanwhile, Draco puttered about the room, distractedly putting empty frames here and there, or sorting through his collection of brushes. It seemed he couldn't look at them.

"The worst thing is that I can't embrace him because he wouldn't understand," said Lucius bitterly when he had calmed down. "He _knows_ things, but he doesn't know them. It kills me." Silently Harry hugged him only tighter. "If only he could see _me_."

They left the room soon after, with both moving paintings shrunken and stowed in their pockets. Draco seemed relieved, almost exuberant. In the patio the maiden, Marianne, brought them coffee and biscuits and Lucius coaxed Draco into telling more about his recent life.

"I want to marry Marianne," announced Draco when the topic came up. "She's always so nice, and so very pretty. I like how she smells. I think she likes me too." His joyful face turned a bit darker. "My daddy wouldn't like it."

Lucius tried to keep the resignation from his face, but Harry saw right through him, as always. And it wasn't as if he was ungrateful for that chance at happiness his son had found. He would be a hippocryte after all. Still, it was neigh on impossible for a mentally damaged person to marry, simply because the bonding spells required a free will and a conscience, and the Ministry was very keen on denying people their rights if the slightest thing was off.

But who was _he_ to debate on the workings of the mind? If it was what his son and that girl wanted he would do everything in his power to give it to them.

"Will you invite us to the wedding?" Harry asked. "I don't think your father would object."

"You would come?" Draco's smile was radiant. "You could be my best man, and you," he looked at Lucius, "could give Marianne away. She has no daddy anymore."

"It would be my pleasure." To his horror Lucius realised that he meant it, too.

Time was running quickly. The afternoon passed by and it was time to say goodbye. Draco was tired, just like Lucius was. Spending so much time with his son was exhausting, as he had known it would be. Still, it was much better to have this than a person that was really crazy, without any understanding of the here and now. At least Draco had his own world where he felt comfortable. In a way he was almost normal, just very, very different.

"Bye Harry, it was nice to meet you," said Draco when it was time to Apparate away. Surprisingly, he pulled him into a strong embrace, which Harry returned just as fiercely. "Please come back."

"I will," said Harry thickly. "I promise."

They separated, looking at each other longingly. Then Draco turned to Lucius, offering his hand timidly. Lucius, still caught in a twist of sadness and almost irrational longing, took it and pulled him against his chest, right into his arms. How could he have never shown his son how much he adored him?

"Be a good boy, Draco," he said softly. "We will come for another visit soon."

He released the young man from his arms and stepped at Harry's side. Harry waved one last time and then Apparated both himself and Lucius back to London. Draco's wistful eyes were branded deeply into their consciousness.

Back in London, the divorce was getting underway. Narcissa had gotten the papers and thrown a fit worthy of a full-grown banshee, calling Lucius every name in the book. She had no options, however. Lucius offered her a few thousand galleons for a start into her new life, and then she was supposed to live off her Black inheritance.

He was lucky that there had been that clause in their marriage contract, making it possible to divorce her without any difficulty. How bad for her that she hadn't cared for her only child at all. Lucius smirked. He had had numerous witnesses for his cause, and that girl who was caring for Draco now, Marianne, had done her best to help him.

Now he was sitting in his study, watching the painting of Harry dancing tirelessly through the flames. It had replaced the lifeless poster he had first bought. Strange how it had all played out. Still, it wasn't enough for him. He wanted more, he wanted all of it.

At night, he Apparated over to Harry at his newest location. They had dinner in a fancy diner, but nothing too over the top. Harry was still rather uncomfortable with the idea of Lucius spending money on him, especially since he had his own.

"I heard on the wireless wizarding radio that your divorce is finally through," Harry remarked over the main course. He smiled softly. "I didn't think it would ever happen."

"Why shouldn't it?" asked Lucius, raising a teasing eyebrow. "I found the right person, why should I remain tied to someone who hates me?"

"I'm still sorry for her," said Harry. "Although not too sorry. The way she treated you she didn't deserve better." He smiled lazily, almost smugly. "You have me now. I'll take good care of you."

A fire flared up in Lucius' chest that had lain dormant for many months now. The burn was back, and it was urging him vehemently. "Do I really have you, Harry?" he asked quietly. "Do you really want to be mine?"

Harry took his hand, playing with Lucius' fingers. "The question should be, could I ever be without you again. I love you, Lucius, and I can only marvel at the fact that you love me as well." He kissed the hand reverently, and his green eyes bore enticingly into Lucius'.

That night, they didn't use the bed for sleeping. Lucius was entranced by how completely Harry invited him in, how completely he allowed him to take him. His kisses tasted like pure love and passion, and Lucius almost drowned in them. It was as if Harry had only waited for this moment to come, to make true of what they had started so timidly. Choking with affection, Lucius realised that Harry had wanted all of him, not a feeble excuse while still feeling left out somehow. Harry's touch burned him, and every inch of his tanned skin was so hot against Lucius' own.

Well, he would have that now, for as long as Lucius was able to give it to him.

"I love you," he said over and over again while floating in bliss at the feel of Harry's body around his own. "I love you, I love you, I love you …"

Harry only moaned and smiled, digging hot fingers in Lucius' shoulders. His whole body screamed the answer, and when they both came, the last wall that separated them broke down.

"I fear we cannot do that," argued Fudge vehemently. He stomped back and forth in his elaborate office, waving his portly arms. "Your son is incapable of making a decision like that. Besides, he frankly is insane, Malfoy."

Lucius put on his most bored face. He had heard these lame excuses for weeks now. At least someone with a modicum of sense was present now, even if it was Arthur Weasley of all people.

"Now, now, Cornelius," said Arthur mildly. "Draco Malfoy might have suffered strongly under the Cruciatus Curse but healers from St Mungos have attested him personality and the capability to make decisions, and an awareness of the consequences. When he says that he wants to marry that girl, who are we to deny him that? It's his own wish. Besides, it's not that he would be without any care after the wedding. Miss Beauregard _is_ a qualified mediwitch as well as a very good psychoanalyst."

"Still, should someone like him be allowed to father children? They could be mentally damaged as well," retorted Fudge bitingly.

Lucius scowled. "Fudge, if you would read the reports on your desk only once, and if you would only think farther than from wall to tapestry it would make things incomparably easier." Fudge threw him a nasty look that promised war. "The healers already said that his cells aren't affected by the curse; he was healed completely after the battle."

"Exactly," agreed Arthur. "We really should permit this marriage; there's no reason not to." He looked challengingly at Lucius. "If Malfoy here decides to go public with this story there'll be an uproar. People would start to think that you're trying to deny them happiness after the war, Cornelius."

Fudge stopped his pacing and frowned. Lucius could almost see him think, which wasn't saying much about the man. Carelessly he swiped a strand of his hair back, showing a bit of his wrist. Arthur flinched, seeing the golden and bronze marks that blossomed on the pale skin, only to vanish again seconds later.

Lucius smirked. Harry's burning touch had literally branded him in their first night. Now, just like that envelope all these months ago, beautiful vines and blossoms were flowing over his body, making an appearance and vanishing again. They grew on his whole body except his face and hands and the soles of his feet, which was, quite frankly, rather eccentric. But his beloved just loved it to follow these living marks with his fingers and tongue, and it pleased Lucius that Harry seemed pleased with his work.

Merlin, but he loved Harry. Instead of coldness he now exuded a heat that was beyond anything Lucius had ever seen or felt. He was like a flame now, exuding all of his feelings into the world around him. To Lucius it seemed like a wonder that Harry could love him so much; he was able to heal every little hurt with only a kind word or a loving touch.

"Fine, have it your way," said Fudge finally after much grimacing and frowning. "But I'll write up a law to control these happenings. We can't have all of our insane people suddenly marrying all over the place."

Lucius was _this_ close to rolling his eyes. Arthur cleared his throat; his daughter Ginny was such a case as well, although she wasn't half as well off as Draco. Lucius felt sorry for the man. Lots of children had meant many losses during the course of the war; Lucius at least had only to mourn one loss, which was already more than he could bear.

"Don't forget to involve the Wizengamot, Fudge," replied Lucius in a bored voice. "Well, now that this is finally cleared I have to go. My fiancé is waiting. Excuse me." He rose from his seat and Apparated out of the office.

At home Harry hugged him tightly when Lucius had related Fudge's agreement.

"That's wonderful news!" said Harry excitedly. He batted his eyelids enticingly. "Why don't we make it a double ceremony, love?"

"Who's going to give Marianne away, then?" Lucius asked amusedly. "Draco will be disappointed."

Harry smiled happily. His nimble fingers tugged at Lucius' collar and freed his neck from the expensive garment. Only seconds later his hot tongue caressed the shimmering marks on Lucius' pale skin. "I love you, Lucius," he whispered. His soft breath sent goosebumps all over Lucius' body. "You're my everything."

Well, when Harry put it that way who was Lucius to argue? He swept his young lover into his arms and kissed him hungrily. Feelings of affection and desire coursed through him, choking him like they always did.

They barely made it into the bedroom, having lost almost all of their clothing already in the hallways of the manor. As if rewarding Lucius for his generosity Harry allowed him to do as he pleased, and to take everything he wanted. Being with Harry, being _inside_ of him, was heaven. Each and every time they built a world only for themselves, and slowly but surely the grey was fading from Lucius' view permanently, leaving him with colours and a brightness he hadn't experienced in many years, if ever.

Marrying was only a small step, Lucius mused, if you've done it before, and if you've already experienced the greatest luck in life beforehand. To marry Harry was only the logical consequence of finally having him. Instead of earth-shattering bliss Lucius felt a smug contentment that everything finally was as it should be. Severus looked slightly disbelieving, but his wife had that knowing and smug look that Lucius found so irritating. Well, these two deserved each other. The remaining Weasleys seemed content to see Harry finally in good hands, and Fudge, that annoying fool, looked ready to kill something.

Seeing Draco marry was another thing altogether. The wizard that bonded his son and Marianne was kind and chose good words, making it a beautiful affair. Draco seemed so radiant, and the timid bride couldn't stop smiling. Harry almost vibrated, spreading his magic all over the place, protecting the ceremony.

It had been decided, with Draco's and Marianne's consent, to leave the ancient Malfoy Manor for a warmer and smaller place. Draco had wanted something that resembled the home he had had for the past four years and Harry had agreed. Southern France was wonderfully sunny and fragrant compared to England. Lucius had no objections, and a secluded villa had been found quickly.

Lucius smirked. The place was grand enough to allow some more inhabitants, and he had no doubts that Marianne would be pregnant within the year. And Harry would be as well, if he had any say in the matter. He desperately wanted at least one more child, and more if Harry wanted it as well. But somehow he doubted that Harry would be adverse to the idea.

Later, when the guests were gone and Draco and Marianne had retired to their own suite, Harry surprised Lucius with a private performance of his firedance. He wore next to nothing, only a garment covering his privates teasingly, which only served to make Lucius want to rip it off his enticing, wonderful body and devour him whole.

Harry had turned the suite into a stage of the special kind, and the bed was his playground. His magic illuminated the room with small fires that didn't burn the ancient furniture, and the soft light made him look only more beautiful. Sitting on his chair, Lucius could only marvel at the vision in front of him. Oriental sounding music played up, and Harry started to dance …

Only now Lucius saw the real difference between Harry's dance for the circus and this private dance. On stage Harry was controlled and seemed colourless in comparison to what he did now. The way he twisted and swayed would make the blood of mere mortals sing with desire. It was as if Harry was Veela himself, he was so alluring. Combined with his immense aura and that impossible-to-ignore tug of his magic he was simply gorgeous.

And all of this was his for the rest of his life and beyond. How did he ever get so lucky, he asked himself. Harry's lascivous dance was arousing him so much but he strained to keep himself from pouncing on his husband. As much as he wanted to claim that body yet again he wanted to enjoy Harry's gift more.

The vision danced, making the circles around Lucius smaller and smaller, until he received the first lapdance of his life. His lap was agreeing happily, and when Lucius finally could take that offending piece of clothing off of Harry's body he just knew that Harry was ready to fulfil the last of his wishes as well.

Lucius caressed his lover into oblivion, pushing him over the edge over and over again, showing him how grateful he was for his generosity. He didn't know how he could ever express his gratitude for the gifts Harry had given him, but he had lots of time to find out. Right now he wanted to make sure that this particular gift wasn't wasted on him, and also that Harry had been right in choosing him.

_A child_.

He was going to be a father again, and he would make sure to show the child how much he loved it from the moment it was born, and even before. He would not make the same mistakes again. He was lucky that Draco was still alive so he could do the same for his firstborn offspring. Maybe, over time, Draco would accept him as a father figure.

Right now he was busy with his lovely firedancer. Every touch burned the marks Harry had given him deeper into his skin, but now he left marks of his own as well. Harry's knowing eyes made it all the sweeter, and then they finally both burnt in the flames they had created.

- Fin -


End file.
